


door bells

by notsowearypilgrim



Series: the tinsel series [5]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Baby Yoda is chaos personified no matter what universe he's written in, F/M, Gen, Human Baby Yoda, UNCLE PAZ BOUT TO BUST IN HERE LIKE THE KOOLAID MAN, cop buddies, din is a soft dad, ex army buddies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:54:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25603153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notsowearypilgrim/pseuds/notsowearypilgrim
Summary: “Uh.” The (confused) man wearing army fatigues and squinting at her from her front porch is…well.Huge. Enough where Omera feels like she’s Winta’s size, tilting her head back to stare up at him.“Can I help you?”“Uh…yeah, I’m sorry, I think I have the wrong address.”“Oh, that’s fine. Maybe I can help, we only moved in a few months ago and the previous owners left their forwarding address.” Omera smiles pleasantly, somewhat reassured by his good manners in spite of his size.“I’m looking for Din Djarin.”
Relationships: The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV) & Paz Vizla, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Omera (Star Wars)
Series: the tinsel series [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1679791
Comments: 16
Kudos: 196





	door bells

**Author's Note:**

> This one's for Roxy. Thanks for letting me ask important questions and always giving me the answers I need to write respectfully and thoughtfully. Love you, babes. <3

Omera is pulled from sleep by the bedroom door creaking open, followed by the pattering of tiny feet.

She feels Din smile against the back of her neck just before she feels the mattress dip at the end and hears the grunting required to haul a chunky three year old off the floor.

“Mama.” The whisper is comically loud, and this time Omera feels a puff of air against her neck as Din muffles a snicker. “Mama.”

“Morning, baby.” Through half-closed eyes, she reaches out with one hand so she can pull Mateo in to lie in front of her. Normally he comes willingly – he’s their cuddler, though to be fair all of their kids could be described that way – but this time he just grabs her hand and pulls. This rouses Omera fully, mostly out of concern.

“What is it, what’s wrong?”

“It Chri’mas.” His eyes are huge and he’s grinning excitedly. “Pwesents.”

Omera huffs. “Oh. Right, it’s Christmas.”

“I can’t believe you forgot,” Din mumbles against her skin. “It’s not like we weren’t up until three thirty wrapping all of those presents.”

“I’m kinda used to sleepless nights,” she retorts mildly. As if to prove her point, a wail sounds from down the hall.

Mateo gasps, as he always does when he hears one of his brothers crying. “Se-stan sad?”

How he can tell the twins apart by their cry is past anyone’s guess; Omera just smiles at him and kisses him on the nose as she sits up.

“No, Sebastian’s not sad honey. He’s probably just hungry. He and Joaquín need to have their breakfast before we open presents, okay?”

“Okay,” he agrees, clambering up Din’s torso to perch happily on his chest, smacking his hands into Din’s arm. “Daddy, time get up! It Chri’mas!”

“Christmas?” Din rolls over groggily, his voice rough. “I thought it was my birthday.”

Mateo frowns, looks around, and sees a picture on Omera’s nightstand. It’s of him and his siblings with Din at the precinct a few weeks ago when Din got roped into wearing the Santa suit for some foster kids. This visual cue clears any doubts he might have had as to which holiday it is, and he pats Din’s chest again.

“No, Daddy. It not birfday. It Chri’mas.”

Smothering his laughter, Din argues some more. Omera leaves them to figure it out while she heads down the hall to the nursery.

Other than the one cry, Sebastian is lying quietly, though she can tell he’s still unhappy by the way he’s squirming. His face brightens when he sees her, softening into the toothless grin that always gets drool all over his clothes. Din calls it his old man face, which she hates but always laughs anyway.

“Good morning,” she says, lifting him and kissing his soft cheek. He gurgles in response, and Omera smiles at the answering squeal from the other crib behind her.

“And good morning to you too,” she says, scooping Joaquín into her other arm. This was a lot harder before they could hold their heads up, and it’ll be a lot harder as they get bigger. Currently at four months, though, both of them are the perfect squishy baby size to scoop one into each arm.

Unsurprisingly, Winta is already downstairs. She beams at her brothers and takes Sebastian to perch on her hip as she follows Omera into the kitchen. “Is Daddy up?”

“Mateo’s working on it,” Omera says dryly. “Your dad is trying to argue that it’s his birthday instead of Christmas.”

Winta grins, aware of Mateo’s stubborn streak (and Din’s tendency to provoke it), and helps Omera fix the boys’ bottles and then settles down with Sebastian in her lap.

Both babies are good eaters; they’re almost finished when Din at last appears with Mateo hanging upside down over his shoulder.

“Daddy!” The rest of Mateo’s sentence is drowned out in screamed laughter. Din just grins and bends down to kiss his other three children on the cheek.

“I’m told there’s presents?”

“Pwesents!” Mateo squirms. “Down, Daddy!”

Din obediently lowers him to the floor, and makes sure he’s steady before he takes off at a run to the living room. Joaquín, sitting up in Omera’s lap while she burps him, spots his father and grins and jabbers excitedly.

“Hey.” Din kneels beside her chair to let Joaquín pat his face with soft, chubby hands. “You eat your breakfast?”

He gets a coo in response, and more face-pats; Sebastian spots them and starts to squeal.

“I know,” Din says in his calm way. “I’m not ignoring you, you were still eating and I didn’t want to interrupt.”

He stands as he’s speaking, taking both boys with him. Din is their favorite person, and they both happily fist their hands in his t-shirt and hair as he carries them into the living room. But first, he pauses in the doorway.

“I’ll come back and get those,” he says, nodding at the bottles in Omera’s hands.

“It’s okay,” she tells him, laughing when Sebastian tugs a little too hard on his hair.

She washes the bottles quickly, and mixes up some hot chocolate for the rest of them to enjoy while the kids open their presents. Mugs on a tray, damp cloth on the side for Mateo’s inevitably sticky hands, and Omera smiles to herself as she slips an artificial sprig of mistletoe into the pocket of her bathrobe.

Traditions are important, after all.

She takes it all into the living room and finds Din serving as a jungle gym for all three of their boys while Winta records on Omera’s phone. Granted, the twins can’t do much else besides stand wobblily while using his knee or arm for balance, but Mateo has long since perfected the art of somersaulting down Din’s back or front.

Din catches him just in time to keep his head from whacking with the coffee table. “Okay, that’s enough monkey time. Look, Mama’s got hot chocolate.”

Mateo and Winta both accept theirs gladly, slurping and content for the next ten seconds before they’re allowed to tear into their gifts. Omera hands Din his own mug, and leans down as she pulls the plastic mistletoe out to hold over his head.

“Merry Christmas.” She smirks.

His grin is quick, but broad enough for his dimple to make an appearance. He cranes up and presses his mouth to hers – brief and warm, but long enough for Winta to complain loudly from the couch that they’re not allowed to be gross on Christmas.

Omera can only laugh at this – someday, she’ll tell their daughter the story of that first Christmas where _being gross_ changed their lives in a pretty spectacular way – but she sets down her hot chocolate and goes to start handing out the presents.

At that moment, the doorbell rings.

“Seriously?” Din stares in the direction of the front door.

Omera frowns, but she steps into the small foyer – just out of everyone’s line of sight – and opens the door.

“Uh.” The (confused) man wearing army fatigues and squinting at her from her front porch is…well.

Huge. Enough where Omera feels like she’s Winta’s size, tilting her head back to stare up at him.

“Can I help you?”

“Uh…yeah, I’m sorry, I think I have the wrong address.”

“Oh, that’s fine. Maybe I can help, we only moved in a few months ago and the previous owners left their forwarding address.” Omera smiles pleasantly, somewhat reassured by his good manners in spite of his size.

“I’m looking for Din Djarin.”

“You’ve got the right address,” she starts to step back to welcome him in, but his choked laughter stops her short.

“I – I’m sorry. Din Djarin lives here?”

“Yes,” she replies slowly. “I’m his wife, we both live here along with our kids.”

“ _Kids?_ ” the man repeats incredulously.

Omera feels more than hears Din come up behind her; she turns and sees a look of utter shock on his face.

“Vizla?”

The stranger stares at him for a moment, unable to believe his eyes.

“Djarin?”

Din stares for a moment longer, and then he steps off onto the porch – sock feet in the snow, she notes absently – and throws his arms around the mountain of a man. The embrace is immediately and enthusiastically returned, even though the confusion is still on their visitor’s face.

Din pulls back, hands on his friend’s shoulders. “I can’t – what are you doing here?”

“Medical discharge. They sent me home but everyone’s moved away, and so I called the precinct where you told me you worked and they said you’d moved three times in the past three years – did you have a midlife crisis and not tell me?”

Din snorts. “Yeah, kind of. Come on, we’re just starting on presents with the kids.”

His friend balks. “No, I didn’t mean to interrupt – “

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Din interrupts. “As long as the excited screams of children don’t bother you. We have plenty of food, although the kids won’t let us eat until after they’ve opened everything. Seriously, Paz, come in.”

He tries to protest some more, but Omera decides to seal the deal.

“We’re having cinnamon rolls and bacon. And there’s hot chocolate ready on the stove.”

Right on cue, Paz’s stomach growls loudly enough for him to grimace.

“I….if you’re sure –“

“I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t,” she tells him, ushering both men inside before they turn the whole house into a winter wonderland. “I’m Omera, by the way.”

One big, dark hand snatches his beanie off his head; the other sticks out for her to shake. She tries not to stare at the way his hand swallows hers whole.

“Paz Vizla. I’m one of Din’s foster brothers.”

“Nice to meet you,” she says warmly. She notices the enormous duffle bag he’s carrying. “We’ve got a spare room right down the hall, you can just stick that in there.”

“Oh, I can’t – “

“Don’t bother trying,” Din informs him, going so far as to take the duffle bag himself.

“You need dry socks before you come back in,” Omera calls after him. Then she wraps one hand around Paz’s arm (but only partly, because she’s actually seen watermelons smaller than this man’s biceps) and tugs him into the living room.

“Who dat?” Mateo points in the rude yet cute manner of toddlers.

“This is Mr. Paz,” Omera says gently, rescuing a low hanging ornament from Sebastian’s reach.

Paz clears his throat. “Uh – just Paz is fine, I…”

“Actually, you guys can call him Uncle Paz.” Din walks back in and casually catches Mateo when he jumps off the back of the couch. “He and I were in the same foster home growing up.”

“Din – “

“Don’t tell me you aren’t crazy about kids anymore.” Din smirks at him.

Paz rolls his eyes, and Omera hides a smile in Sebastian’s hair and thinks, _They’re brothers, all right._

Just when Paz starts to protest his five minute adoption, a squeal makes him look down. He can’t hide his grin upon seeing that Joaquín has crawled over and is playing with his bootlaces. Seemingly on autopilot the enormous man bends down and lifts the baby into crook of his elbow.

Joaquín settles there contentedly, especially once he discovers that Paz’s beard is almost as fun to pull as Din’s hair. He jabbers quietly, and Omera sees an oddly familiar look of peace steal across Paz’s face before he swallows.

“Uncle Paz is fine.”

Din doesn’t bother trying to hide his smile.

“Is he gonna be like Auntie Cara?” Winta asks.

“Sort of,” Din tells her. “But he won’t be as cool as Auntie Cara.”

Winta rolls her eyes. “Daddy, _nobody’s_ as cool as Auntie Cara.”

“That’s true,” Omera agrees. “All right, everyone settle in and I’ll get you some hot chocolate, Paz. How many marshmallows do you want?”

/

Forty-five minutes later, Paz still feels a little dazed as he drinks his hot chocolate and watches Winta open a necklace Din picked out for her. Joaquín has refused to be parted from his new friend, so now Paz is sitting on the floor, boots off, leaning back against the couch with a baby in his lap who is trying to rock-climb up his chest using his beard for grappling hooks.

Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised, but holding a baby for the first time in almost twenty years comes pretty easily. His hands keep Joaquín easily balanced in his lap, he automatically sets his mug down out of reach and where Mateo or Winta can’t kick it over in their excitement, and when Joaquín starts to fuss Paz takes some of the discarded wrapping paper and tears it in half.

Immediately, Joaquín laughs uproariously. Paz does it again, and this time Sebastian joins in from Omera’s lap across the room. She lets him down and he wastes no time in crawling over to join in the fun.

Mateo immediately demands to put on his new Buzz Lightyear costume, so Omera whisks him upstairs to change. Winta heads into the kitchen to refill on hot chocolate, and Paz finds himself more or less alone with his brother.

“I can’t believe this.”

Din raises one eyebrow. “Thought you’d find me living out of a crummy apartment and off of frozen dinners, huh?”

“Well…” It almost feels rude, considering how far his assumption was from the truth, but Paz nods sheepishly.

Din snorts. “Four years ago and you’d have been right.”

Paz looks down at the twins who have passed out cold in his lap. “So, this..this is all pretty recent?”

“I found Mateo on a domestic violence call when he was just a few months old.” Din stretches out his legs, winces when it pulls on his knee.

Paz remembers the day that particular injury happened. But Din is still talking, so he pulls his mind back to the present.

“He just…stuck to me. So I adopted him, moved into a small house that just so happened to be across the street from Omera and Winta, and I moved into their house six months later, and then a couple of months after that we got married. The twins are four months old, and we moved into this house just in time for Winta to start the new school year.”

Paz can’t help but stare. “Wow.”

Din snorts again. “You’re telling me. Some mornings I wake up and I’m still surprised to find Omera in bed next to me, like I’m half expecting it all to be a dream.”

Something in his tone indicates that this disbelief is of the positive variety. Paz clears his throat. “You…you seem happy.”

Din doesn’t even look at him; instead he looks at his sleeping sons. “I am, yeah. In ways I didn’t know were possible.”

He blames it on the fact that he’s been blindsided by the domestication of his grouchy, bachelorhood-is-the-only-way, helpless-with-women brother, but Paz feels his throat get a little tight. He clears it again brusquely.

“Good. Omera seems nice. Sweet kids, too.” Paz runs one finger down Joaquín’s tummy. “Who’s this Auntie Cara I keep hearing about?”

“My partner at work.” Din smirks. “Former Marine. She’ll wipe the floor with you.”

“Oh?” Paz smirks right back. “Is she the small, cute but sassy type?”

Din laughs so loudly it wakes up both of the twins, so Omera comes back downstairs with Mateo – sorry, _Commander Lightyear_ – to find both men trying to soothe the babies back to sleep.

Paz rocks Joaquín, while Mateo runs to the kitchen to show his sister his costume and Omera asks what on earth could make Din laugh like that.

Din can’t even get the words out, he’s actually wheezing, so Paz shrugs.

“I asked if this Auntie Cara the kids keep mentioning was a small and cute but sassy.”

Omera stares at him for about five seconds before he realizes she’s trying desperately not to laugh. She gives up eventually, and giggles so much that she has to sit down.

“Oh, Paz,” she gasps, wiping her eyes. “I can’t wait for you to meet her.”

/

**Author's Note:**

> Uncle Paz is FINALLY HERE I AM MUCH EXCITE.
> 
> also somebody validate me and tell me you noticed the theme with the titles of these fics and the series pls and thank you


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